Not in truth.
Not in fate.
Not when she was Alarik’s only chance at redemption.
But as she spoke cutting words, full of fire and accusation he couldn’t help but admire her even more. She didn’t cower. Didn’t weep. Even stolen away, disoriented, she faced him.
“You shouldn’t have taken me,” she said voice cracking slightly.
That’s when it hit him.
What twisted irony.
He had done exactly what Kael had done at the ball, centuries before, hadn’t he?
Only instead of ending a life, he had stolen one away.
He couldn't say he regretted it.
Not when she looked at him with those starlit eyes.
Not when the future of Calanthe, and his people might be rewritten by the fire wrapped in this mortal-immortal woman — who didn’t yet understand what she was.
He clenched his fists, pulse thudding.
Kael had held her. Touched her. Tasted her. That knowledge crawled under his skin like poison. But Alarik found comfort in knowing he would be the one to awaken her.
To show her what she was, what she could become.
And maybe he’d show her she could want something more than a shadowed crown and a monster’s touch.
Alarik made a vow then:
I will undo everything he made you believe about yourself. Even if it kills me.
Chapter thirty-three
Salt Between the Stars
-Maris-
Maris sulked.
Not the quiet, composed brooding of a lady wronged. No. She seethed. Pacing barefoot across the silken rugs of a gilded chamber she’d never seen before —dressed in borrowed silks she’d rather burn, teeth clenched so tightly her jaw ached.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
She wanted to scream. To tear into herself for not recognizing the signs sooner. For writing off the dreams as some fevered fantasy, some strange, secret craving born of exhaustion and loneliness.
The man who’d haunted her sleep…
She’d known his voice before he spoke.
Knew the curve of his mouth before she saw it twitch in amusement.
Knew his eyes —violet and endless— long before she ever opened hers.
And Kael. Gods-damn him.
